


Scorn ( A Game of Chess)

by Rabid_White_Rabbit



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Abandonment Issues, Attempted Kidnapping, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jim is a Little Shit, Kidnapping, Moriarty is Alive, Organized Crime, Past Child Abuse, Possessive Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Strategy & Tactics, Terrorism, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-02 17:24:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10949232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabid_White_Rabbit/pseuds/Rabid_White_Rabbit
Summary: Wrath is a dangerous fire that only a balm of patience and care can heal. Perhaps even the most damaged of people in a world so cruel can only feel steady when they lean on each other. Jim never thought his experience in a chance encountering with a girl suffering abuse similar to what he had gone through and she never thought that someone would understand her pain and confusion. Perhaps the game they play will fix her situation. Perhaps it'll only keep her in a web of cement.





	1. Chapter 1

She sat in a comfy leather office chair. Three chess boards surrounded her. One board was against rubies, another pearl, and the last one opal. The opal one was quite different from the others. Where the ruby and pearl pieces were uniform, the opal one was made with different pieces with different materials. The knights were lions instead of horses and were gold with ruby eyes. The rooks were granite and the bishops were crystal. The pawns were made with peridot. The ruby board, was defeated and the girl felt that was a challenge necessary to gain her difficult goal. The king ruby piece was surrounded by pawns and the amethyst queen. The girl with the amethyst pieces hummed and pulled the pearl board and the opal board before her before snapping her fingers for a man to flick a large wall of monitors on to watch her targets. Sherlock was consulting his skull. Mycroft was going through papers at his desk. John was at work helping a patient with a bad hip. A text vibrated her phone, she moved the boards to a wide coffee table in another room, something more cozy, and waited on some refreshments and her guest. Two large men manhandled Jim to sit in a leather chair across from their boss. The girl smirked as he was tied down to the chair to keep still. To make it a point to stay where he was, the girl had a sniper train his sight laser to Jim’s crotch. It would most likely hurt worse than a bullet to the head by far.

“So, who are you?” Jim asked bluntly.

“Someone you don’t cross. I didn’t mean to hunt you,” she motioned to the fallen army of rubies, “but you got in the way.”

Jim leered at her and saw her smug look appear. She had a mix of American and British accents in her voice and that got him confused about her origin. He didn’t like her, but he was impressed. She was young and obviously of high intelligence. It was the eyes that got him though. They looked familiar. Too familiar and it was scary. Tea and sweets were delivered and set on the coffee table on the end where the chess boards weren’t. The girl made herself a cup of tea and made his just like he liked it. All the way down to the last grain of sugar. Jim was perplexed. Curious, he let the men give him his tea and a cookie to munch on. The man who delivered the food and drink put a heavy blanket over the girl and she wrapped herself in it. Jim didn’t realize she was cold, but he wasn’t sure if she were cold or anxious over something.

“Maybe, not completely, my pawn.” She casually grabbed a ruby pawn. She removed an amethyst pawn and set down the ruby in its place. Jim felt offended by that. He was the head of a massive underground organization. He was the ruby king and queen, not a simple little pawn. “If I have you, you are not seen or heard from. Therefore, everyone against you will either take your throne or look for you to see who or what killed you.”

“You’re going to kill me? Honey, I’m sorry, but I doubt you’ll survive the aftershock.” Jim tutted.

“Did I say that? No, you are a prisoner. I’ll treat you well, but as for now, you’re tucked away and in my disposal,” she glared at him. The man who gave her the blanket started to braid her hair.

“Miss, I think we should put him in his room.” The man next to Jim’s right suggested. He saw the staff around them get concerned over their boss. 

" _Interesting..._ " Jim thought. 

“Go ahead and take him. I need to speak with her.” The man playing with the girl’s hair ordered.

Jim was manhandled out of the chair and then dragged to the top floor. He realized they were some sort of modified office building in a booming new area of London. The hallways were pristine and moderately decorated. A plant here and a painting there. He was shoved into a large penthouse like suite. It had a kitchen, a master bed and bath, and even a television set. It was decorated to be modern and comfortable. Richly decorated really. How the furniture and the design was made it had to be made with a lot of money. Jim had many theories about the unknown girl. He went to the kitchen to see it fully stocked with fresh foods and plates with silver and cooking tools. The amount of trust he had was amazing though. As far as being taken out of bed and suddenly waking up in his favorite suit in some odd building with an even curious girl was a bit of an exciting change in his usual routine. Jim took some ice cream and a spoon to sit at the couch and watch the television. Sebastian or someone would come for him. If not, then at least he could find a way to get out of this mess he somehow got tangled in.

Meanwhile in the office he had just been ushered from, the girl was having her hair braided while she tried not to fall asleep.

“Jason, leave me alone,” she mumbled groggily.

“If they make a play, I’ll move the proper piece. Who taught you this game?” Jason said as soon as he finished with the French braid. The girl laid back in the couch Jason had gotten her on and blinked slowly and tiredly. “Chess, get some rest. You think better when you sleep a whole night.”

“It’s night time?” She looked out the window and didn’t realize that the stars were blurred by the London city lights.

“Eleven at night, to be exact. Go on, sleep,” Jason hushed. She slowly drifted away and curled in a ball. Jason petted her back and let her sleep until she was out cold. 

Jason adjusted his tie and coldly went to the main office. Sure, his young miss was the leader of this crime web she herself had made in America, but he was just the face to make sure she was safe. Jason sat down in his desk and worked on papers. He hid their passports and some cash in a hidden safe. He opened up the girl's email and looked through it. There were hundreds of unsent drafts and hundreds more of sent ones. They were here now. Jason helped her finish her studies on her abroad trip and she should've been done later, but this one girl was special. Her intelligence was high and her wrath had been boiling. That wrath was hidden by a calm mask and Jason was surprised she hadn't ordered any death sentences. He did the dirty work for her when she denied a kill order. Jason watched Jim eating like a glutton and watching t.v like a sloth. He knew the psychopath was waiting and thinking. Jason opened his phone and walked out into the hallway away from the vast suite. 

"Send the message across the city. Black Cat walks London's underground. Start sales and keep me posted," he ordered. 

Just like that, the streets were flooded with the whispers of a new drug lord and a new network stretching from the west. Black Cat was the name and everyone had heeded the warnings that the rumors and truths flooded with. No one was the cross the network wrong or they would be trapped in a deadly game of redemption. Even the Yard was alerted by the presence of the new lord. They only found out by accident by a snitch that worked for Anderson. He was as high as the sky and kept singing about a cat that walked London and was playing a game. Greg had him sat in an interview room once he was sober and had a recording set going. The junkie was figiting with fear and an itch for another dose by that time. Greg waited on him to start. 

"Who is Black Cat?" Greg questioned. 

"Oh, her? Oh my, God...." The junkie clammed up and fell to the floor on his knees praying for some sort of forgiveness. Greg got to him and got him to calm down to get a little more coherent. "She-She's someone on a hunt..... She's got Hell-hound as her main hunter. She doesn't kill, no sir! But, if I told the cops, then Hell-hound would surely find me! He's always out for blood.... He's always protecting the kitten..." 

"Donovan! Call Sherlock! I have no idea what this idiot is blubbering about." 


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft came to his home and found a package on his porch. Curious and with the hope it was the new ties he ordered, Mycroft took it inside and set it on his dining table to look at later. He made himself a glass of water and got into some exercise clothing. He had changed part of his basement into a personal gym to keep himself in shape. Mycroft turned on the treadmill and sighed as he let off some steam. He also put on the news to keep an eye on things. Lestrade had asked him to keep tabs on the American investigation of Black Cat's crime ring while he worked on the London home-front. Mycroft had made himself tired with looking at American papers and talking to some people who are too overworked and undermanned to make sure he was given the right information. Mycroft could understand. They were American and they have too much on their plate to eat at once. 

Mycroft sighed as some of the tension from work was lifted off. After his run, he went to lift some of the weights he had. He wasn't very good at it yet, but he was slowly getting there. After about five minutes, he just stopped and went to look at his package. He opened it and saw a scotch bottle carefully nested in bubble wrap, cotton, feathers, and wool. He lifted it up and saw a little purple ribbon with a tag that said "Drink Me!" He looked at the label and saw it was one bloody expensive bottle of alcohol. It didn't have a price tag, but the label did say it was Dalmore 62 Single Hiland Malt Scotch. Mycroft took the cap off and sniffed it. It was strong and he was tempted, but he set it aside and made it look like a decoration. The last thing he needed was alcohol. He made himself a salad and sat down to watch the rest of the news before going to take a shower. He then decided to make himself a little cheese platter and felt something was missing. He had some wine, but it wasn't his liking. He knew it had a significantly low alcohol content than the scotch he received, but he wanted that scotch. The temptation was there. He felt like a child who was told to do chores in order to get a slice of cake. The child knew where the cake was and he knew he could get it and hide. Mycroft huffed as he set his food aside, put his wine back where he had it, and grabbed a scotch glass he never used in years and the Dalmore Scotch. He poured himself a healthy glass and drank. The scotch felt good down his throat. He poured another glass and then another. 

* * *

 

Sherlock came home and saw a box. He looked at his phone and then turned it off after the fifth call he got from John. He wanted to be left alone for the day. It was a solemn time of the year and Sherlock knew that John knew that. He knew John knew, but without the answer to the why. The holidays were also solemn and John didn't really get into it fearing what would happen. Especially with the Euros situation, John kept certain questions to himself. Sherlock wouldn't have told him if he had asked.

Sherlock looked back at the box to get away from his thoughts. He put on some latex gloves from his kitchen and used the letter opener to tear the tape open. Pulling out piles of packaging peanuts and bubble wrap, Sherlock found a glass vial with a needle. There was a grinning cat sticker wrapped around it. 

" _You know you want to._ " Sherlock heard a voice say in his mind. " _No one is looking. You earned it. Working yourself ragged for three weeks looking for missing chessboards with jeweled pieces like a dog. You may as well be a cat now and take the catnip._ " The voice teased. 

Sherlock pinched himself and went to test the substances to see what drug it was and to use its content amounts to compare it to other drug types with their contents amounts in a binder. He put drops of the drug in every test, but his findings were shocking. He put his research in that binder and hid the evidence when he heard Mrs. Hudson coming from below. 

"Sherlock, did you get a package? You threw all the packaging all over the rug!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. 

"Yes. Did you see who delivered it?" Sherlock asked. 

"No, I found it on the porch and I set it where you found it. What was in it?" The landlady asked. 

"Don't know." Sherlock lied smoothly. He went back to the box to see if he found anything else. What he did find was a little wooden police officer. The toy had a little vest of tiny watch batteries tied around it and those were painted purple. Sherlock turned on his phone and turned off the sound in favor of vibrate. "Tell John to meet me at the Yard." 

Sherlock got into a cab within ten minutes of looking for one and had the driver speed to Scotland Yard. The detective ran inside and saw what he knew would be there. John, Greg, and several other men and women were tied up and wrapped in a coil of dynamite, time bombs, and then a little alarm clock with several flares with a mechanism that would flick them all on to light a fuse. 

"Is this what you were calling about?" Sherlock asked John as if everything was fine. 

"First is was about a dead junkie and the last few were about us getting rounded up like cattle. What were you doing today?" John asked. 

"I got a box when I came back from that place where the chessboards were stolen from." Sherlock said casually as he began to work on the mechanism first. It was in sync with the time bombs, so he was confident he could figure all of this out without having to do two things at once. 

"You actually took that case?" Donovan said bemusedly.

"I was bored and I was hoping to steal the amethyst queen from the amethyst board." Sherlock said. 

"Well, at least he's being truthful about the last part." John mumbled. 

Sherlock got a call and groaned when he saw it was Mycroft. He answered it and held it between his shoulder and his ear. 

"What Mycroft?" Sherlock sighed with annoyance. That's when he heard the slurred voice and he became disappointed. "Mycroft, I'm busy. I'll call you later." He hung up and set his phone aside. 

Sherlock looked at the alarm clock. It looked Victorian with a marbled rust colored face behind dusty glass. The hands were elegantly twisted and pointed to elegant numbers. It would be a shape to destroy it, but Sherlock planned on salvaging it for any clues to where it came from. He copied down serial numbers, took photos with his phone, and started to copy down each number from each piece. 

"Sherlock!" Everyone shouted at him.

Sherlock sighed and began taking the clock apart. He saw several buttons and they had notes on them. He didn't know what that was about but then he heard a song play through the speakers in the building's systems. 

" _Cold and cruel like winds on the sea_

_Will you ever return to me?_

_Hear my voice_

_Sing with the tide_

_My love will never die_ "


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock looked at the notes and then saw a small part of the clock that the buttons would be put on. It was designed to look like a music sheet. Sherlock saw there was no button to rewind that one lyric, but he found that if he moved the little arm of the clock back, he'd get the lyric. 

"D, A, D, E sharp." Sherlock said as he moved some of the buttons. He realized it was the organ part. 

"Sherlock, what are you doing!?" Anderson shouted as the ticking turned into a beat. 

"Just relax, I'll be done in a minute." Sherlock sighed as he listened to the lyric again. It wasn't the words that were familiar to him, but it was the instruments' voices he knew. The organ was the strongest one in the orchestra and he figured he had to listen to that in order to set the buttons in the right place. 

"You try relaxing with a bomb stuck to you and a sweaty from the drunk tank!" An officer shouted. 

"Well excuse me for having a fun time last night at a pub during a football match!" The man beside that officer shouted back. 

Sherlock sighed and saw a headphone jack. He stole a pair from a teen in the pile and used those to keep listening to the lyric and the instruments. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and put in the last few notes. While that stopped the time bombs, it only set the lighters aflame and the T.N.T line hissed to life. Sherlock stomped on it, but they all still heard the hissing and sparking. There were more lines. Sherlock managed to untie Greg and John, so they were able to run around and stomp out more lines. There were a few left and some of the people tied up started to try and blow them one. One woman managed to spit on a spark and take it out much to the surprise of some of the men around her and Donovan was able to stomp one out in her heeled shoes. Sherlock had to stomp out the last one. 

"Well, that was fun." Greg said sarcastically. 

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock giddy smile. "Much better than the chess boards." The detective said with a crooked grin. 

"Do you finally want to know why I was calling you?" John asked frustrated. 

Greg showed them to the on-sight morgue on the bottom floor. When Sherlock was presented with the body, Sherlock began looking around the victim's belongings. He wanted tox-screens, I.D, and any report that Molly made after he saw the signature on the syringe. He took some of the left over contents into a vial. Sherlock had the clock sent to the flat with John making sure it wouldn't break and Greg was to find out where the product came from. Of course, Sherlock could do it, but he had to find Mycroft first. Sherlock got on the first cabby he could get and had the man speed in order to be paid extra. It took only a half hour to find his brother's home and get inside. There, he saw an empty scotch bottle and his poor older brother asleep on the couch. Sherlock knew he wasn't his brother's keeper, but this man was his only other sibling besides the one in Sherrinford. Sherlock set some ice water down with some medicine next to it. He put a blanket over Mycroft and put a waste bin with a plastic bag lining the inside. Sherlock took the empty glass away and the bottle. With a heavy, grieved sigh, Sherlock stayed and looked through Mycroft's things. 


End file.
